“Well, that’s fine for most days, but when you’re playing a showand there isn’t someone there to make you beautiful, now you’ll know,” she saidcheerfully, and he grunted. I could just picture him crossing his arms over hischest and I smiled, looking down at the pictures of him spread acrossInstagram.
“Okay, ready?” Becki asked, coming to spin my chair around. Ithought she was enjoying this whole unveiling thing a little too much.
“As ready as I’mgonnabe,” I laughed,suddenly nervous as she spun my chair to face him.
Somehow, the haircut Becki described emphasized the cut of hisjawline. Somehow, it made him appear even taller.
Somehow, I was reminding my lungs that the air had to move in andout, to keep me alive, but nothing could convince my mouth to close. To stopgaping. To stop staring, as though he were a hot stranger with the powers ofMedusa.
“What do you think?” he asked, quirking his mouth into ahalf-smile as he turned slowly. Showing off.
“Uh, I don’t know,” I fibbed nonchalantly with a gentle shrug, andhe rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
“You’re forgetting I know you, KJ,” he said, winking. He turnedback to the mirror, touching his hair and nodding. “Yeah, I’d fuck me.”
Becki snorted, and I said, “Okay, Buffalo Bill.”
“Seriously, though; I look hot,” he said, nodding his approvalagain. He snapped a picture with his phone. “I’m sending this to Richard.Hopefully he approves.”
I wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter what Richard thought. Iwanted to say that all that mattered was whathethought of it, and thenme. But I kept my lips sealed with the determination to be supportive.
When his phone chimed with Richard’s reply, I asked what he’dsaid, and Dev replied, “He says, ‘That’s more like it. The fans are going tolove it.’”
My stomach churned at the thought that, while Becki cared whatDevin and I thought, the others didn’t. I was nobody compared to the fans,because the fans were spending money; I wasn’t. And Devin? Well, he was thecash cow.
Becki finished her work on my coloring, and then, she set out tocut long layers into the lengths. She fashioned some side-swept bangs and thenshe buzzed a small section for a side-cut. She blew it out, she curled the endsand when she was finished, I could’ve cried.
I loved it.
And I finally sawall ofthosemultidimensional hues Devin had talked about for all those years.
With his hands planted to the arms of my chair, he bent over meand whispered, “You were an array of gemstones that have blossomed into asunlit field of orchids and irises,” and I was about to roll my eyes at thecheesy line, when he leaned further to touch his lips to mine. “And what I meanby that is,” he whispered in a graveled voice, “you look fucking hot and Icannot wait to get you back to the hotel.”
I laughed, relishing in the rapid pitter-patter of my heartbeat,at the sight of my gorgeous boyfriend, and his lyrical way of speaking. Sofamiliar, with the strange excitement from the new haircut. I let him kiss meagain before I whispered, “You better get me back there quick before I shove youinto the bathroom.”
Devin grinned devilishly. “Challenge accepted.”
We made it out of the salon, and we made it to our hotel, butsomehow, the elevator ride back to our floor was a long one.
And we didn’t make it to the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Kylie
Aweek on the road.Crammed into that van withthe guys and various conquests sought out by Robbie, had taken us to the middleof the East Coast. I’d seen things I never thought I’d see—Philadelphia’s MagicGardens, the Jersey Shore, the nation’s capital—and finally, on thatparticularly amazing day, Devin suggested we all have some fun and go to BuschGardens in Williamsburg.
Italmost felt scandalous in a way, to do something entertaining as a group,instead of the schedule of work, work, work that had been laid out for themmost of the time. We wore color-coordinated baseball hats to protect ourselvesfrom the sun. To keepourselvesin disguise from thegroupies that seemed to be multiplying by the day.
Itseemed almost impossible that Devin’s fame could be spreading so rampantly. Hejoked about it, but I don’t think hereallyunderstood the severity ofhis hold on the airwaves. He didn’t pay attention to trending music or socialmedia.
ButI was keeping track, as though I had given myself the task. Always checkingTwitter, always checking Facebook. Hell, even as the guys terrorized themselveswith some ridiculous rollercoaster called Apollo’s Chariot, I was scrollingthrough Instagram and browsing that tag,#daisiesanddevin.I smiled at the pictures of radio station playlists, scowled at the postsdeclaring him as “their man,” and radiated with an exhilarating amount of prideat the snippets of live videos.
“Youmight have to be hired on as his PR manager,” Richard joked.
Hewas the first in line off the coaster, and I looked behind him at Devin,standing out from the group. Tall, handsome and rocking a pair of sunglasses,helookedlike the star. I smiled at the sight of him, until I noticedRobbie at his side, laughing and shoving against Dev’s shoulder, as if they hadbeen close friends since high school. Except I knew better.
Thefriendship between them was thriving. Devin tried to keep it from me, putting adistance between himself and Robbie when I was around, but it was in thosemoments when I saw it. I didn’t like it. Not at all. But what could I saywithout sounding like the nagging wife? What could I do without seeming like acontrolling tyrant?
